


I'll Be Uncareful, I'll Cause Such Scenes

by thereweregiants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Modern AU, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereweregiants/pseuds/thereweregiants
Summary: Just because Genji's been ordered to match the other bridesmaids doesn't mean he isn't going to enjoy it.Let's just hope whatever groomsman he's paired with doesn't mind either.written for McGenji Valentine Week 2020
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada, background Ana Amari/Sombra
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	I'll Be Uncareful, I'll Cause Such Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> written (late, but it got there eventually!) for McGenji valentine week, for the prompt "I love what's not allowed"  
> because sometimes you just want to think about hot men in lingerie, okay? (and in case you need a [reference](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/eu_en/hinda-suspender-black) for said lingerie, though Genji's had a strapless bra to fit under the dress)
> 
> title from Chumbawamba's [Mary Mary](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXiswqKR0Rs), which is also where the prompt line came from  
> written to a lot of Zoë Keating

Genji stalks into the dressing room as best he can while on four inch stilettos and announces, “When I break my ankle, I’m suing you for workman’s comp.”

Amélie doesn’t look up from where she’s plucking stray hairs from Fareeha’s eyebrow. “Grow up, Genji. You don’t dance anymore and you own the club, so you’d have to do all the paperwork yourself.”

Throwing himself down into a chair, Genji huffs.

He wears heels all the time - at this point he’s not really used to seeing the world on flat feet. Genji’s heels are reasonable, though, all thick platformed boots with buckles and straps, saying in the best way he knows how ‘I’ll kick your ass and then fuck your boyfriend later’.

Genji has a brand, okay? That brand doesn’t tend to involve sky-high peep toe pumps, for one. 

The whole gender expression thing is something Genji only has the faintest relation to - he likes interesting fashion and clothing that makes him look good, and will use every department in the store to get that. He has as many skirts in his closet as he does pants, but they tend to fall along certain lines. Short with studs and straps or long and tattered with slits up to his ass, almost exclusively black or red.

Nothing like the delicate purple dress that is currently swirling around his knees.

It’s all Sombra’s fault, really. Sort of. It’s her wedding, after all. When she asked Genji to be her bridesman, he agreed immediately - she’s been one of his best friends for years, and being able to stand by her for her wedding would be an honor. He also didn’t particularly care what he wore, either. It was all for Sombra, in the end.

Then...Amélie got involved.

When Amélie gets involved, wise men cower.

It’s her fault that he had to go through a dozen fittings, her fault that he’s currently strapped in so tightly it’s hard for him to breathe. She took her maid of honor job very seriously, and that included making the bridesmaids and Genji look identical from hair to stockings.

He has to admit that he does look pretty delicious, though. 

When two atheist women from vastly different cultures get hitched, they have the ceremony conducted in a neutral reception hall by a friend. In this case, it’s one of Ana’s many slabs-of-beef military buddies - some enormous man with one eye and a little white manbun. He’s now knocking on the open door politely, telling Amélie, “Everyone is ready.” 

“Thank you, Reinhardt,” she says with one last vicious yank that leaves Fareeha clapping a hand over her eyebrow and watering eye. “Let’s go, everyone.” 

-x-x-x-x-x-

Genji shifts from foot to foot, trying to avoid pressure on the blister that’s rising at the back of his left ankle. He’s the third and last bridesmaid to go down the aisle and although he’s supposed to be walking in about a minute, his accompanying groomsman still hasn’t showed. 

He’s apparently one of Ana’s coworkers - he’d missed the dress rehearsal because he’d been off doing some super secret mission god knows where. Genji gets how work can interfere with things, but this is  _ Sombra _ and  _ Ana _ \- they deserve a perfect wedding, and this asshole needs to get here before Genji has to walk down the aisle awkward and alone. 

This Jesse is supposedly pretty young compared to Ana and her other hulking groomsmen Gabriel and Jack, who have been using the guy’s absence to mock him at every opportunity. Genji is sure that some of it is whatever hypermasculine militarized bullshit those type of men tend to pull with each other - Genji owns three strip clubs, he’s seen every variation possible - but he really does sound like some snot nosed little idiot.

Genji sighs and flicks his skirt out to fall more evenly around his thighs. He just hopes he’s not too much taller than the guy, he hates dancing with short people. 

The red-haired head of the frankly terrifying wedding planner pokes around the door. “Is he not here yet?” she hisses at Genji. 

Before he can do more than open his mouth to answer, someone comes around the corner in a flurry of flapping undone cuffs and wild hair, skidding to a stop in slippery dress shoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was comin’ down the road and my truck broke down about a mile back...and…” the man has color high in his cheeks and a bead of sweat trailing down his neck, and as he looks Genji up and down a slow crooked smile spreads across his face. “Well, hi there,” he says. “I’m Jesse.”

Genji frowns. “Do up your cuffs,” he says in a clipped tone as he reaches forward to fix the man’s - Jesse’s - tie. The wedding planner flicks his hair into place with a few strokes of her pointy-nailed fingers, then jabs the two of them in the shoulders until they’re in place. 

Jesse offers an arm to Genji, who takes it with a reluctant hand. The manicurists Amélie insisted on were brutal, but the matte plum on his nails does look nice against his skin. The colors for the wedding were light purple and pale gold, with a darker purple for an accent. As they make the way down the center aisle Genji looks ahead at the bridesmaids in their one shouldered purple gowns, at the groomsmen with their gold cummerbunds and pocket squares, and thinks that it’s as beautiful as the brides deserve.

Neither Ana nor Sombra have much family - apart from Fareeha, of course - so they come down the aisle together as everyone in the seating stands. They’re both gorgeous - Ana in her formal military uniform covered with medals and with an actual sword at her side, Sombra in something ivory and slinky and accented with thin gold chains. 

Genji isn’t the only one to wipe away a stray tear or two, and he thanks the industrial-strength eyeliner he normally wears for work for keeping him decent.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Bésame, bésame mucho,” an off key baritone bellows out. Genji glances up to see Gabriel hoist Sombra up on one broad shoulder, and she joins in with her raspy alto: “Que tengo miedo a perderte!” 

Genji shakes his head and takes another sip of his gin and tonic. So far he’s danced with nearly all of the various bridesmaids and groomsmen, been dragged into an unfortunate version of the Electric Slide by Fareeha - he is going to have _ words _ with the DJ later, he told Sombra she should use someone from one of the clubs - and sweated all of the gel out of his hair. 

It’s been an...odd night. The dinner and reception went fantastically, of course - nothing that Ana or Sombra had a hand in planning could go anything but smoothly. The food was good, the music better, and Genji has been having a ball catching up with friends he hasn’t seen in years. And yet there’s something marring it -

As he reaches across the table to hand a napkin to Lúcio, he catches sight of a pair of sharp brown eyes looking at him slowly, lazily, like they have the right to rest anywhere they want on Genji’s body. Genji sniffs and turns back to Lúcio saying something inane about his latest concert. 

Genji keeps catching Jesse looking at him, looking at him with an expression he can’t quite parse. It’s not disapproving, which given the little he knows about the man’s background he might have expected. It’s not the plain lust of how men and women would look at him back when he danced. He can’t tell if he’s being judged, for better or worse. It’s something that makes Genji want to shift in his seat, a look that makes Genji  _ itchy _ . 

He gets distracted for a moment by a conversation, but looks up when a shadow falls over him.

“Night’s windin’ down and I haven’t had a dance with you yet,” Jesse says with a broad hand stretched down to Genji. 

Genji looks at the hand, looks up at Jesse’s face, and delicately puts his hand in Jesse’s to let himself be pulled up. 

Because it’s just how Genji’s luck goes, the music switches to a slow song as they approach the dance floor. To his credit, Jesse doesn’t blink as one hand settles respectfully in the middle of Genji’s back and the other holds Genji’s free hand, seemingly unconcerned at how Genji’s heels put him at Jesse’s own height.

“So you work with Sombra?” Jesse says, like they were in the middle of small talk and happened to have paused for a moment.

“She’s my employee, technically,” Genji says after a slight pause. “Does all the books and accounting for my clubs. She’s more of a partner than anything, to be honest, I couldn’t survive without her.”

A drunken couple lurches towards them, and Jesse does a bit of fancy footwork to move them out of the way. When they settle, Jesse’s hand is low on Genji’s waist and Genji’s arm has curled around Jesse’s shoulders to steady himself. He flattens his fingers against the collar of Jesse’s tux, tells himself not to stroke through Jesse’s hair that’s just brushing over the back of his hand no matter how soft it feels. 

They don’t know each other, and he’s fairly sure Sombra would kill him. Better to stay polite and professional -

“Sombra said you used to dance,” Jesse murmurs, voice clear despite his low tone thanks to how close they’ve moved to one another.

Genji laughs deep in his throat. “Not for a long while now. And nothing appropriate for this dance floor.” 

Jesse’s fingers flex on his waist, then pause and stroke over the fabric of the dress. Genji feels his fingertips trip over the garter belt underneath and breathes carefully. 

“Now what all are you wearin’ under here?” is barely audible, just a warm breath against Genji’s ear. 

Before he can think of how to respond, the song ends and everyone applauds the band. Genji takes a step back, looking at Jesse with a considering look as he claps. Jesse gives him a crooked grin and seems about to say something before Angela comes over and grabs his arm, hissing something in his ear. 

Making his way back to the table, Genji thinks. He gets hit on all the time - mostly because that’s what happens when you own strip clubs, and that’s particularly what happens when you learn to weaponize sexuality the way he has. Being hit on  _ effectively _ , however, is another matter. One that doesn’t happen often. One to think about.

“Do not even consider it,” a French-accented voice says as Genji picks up his bag from the table. 

He looks down at Amélie, eyebrow raised. The two of them aren’t friends, but they’re something more than acquaintances, dragged into proximity because of their social groups. Genji’s been told more than once that they don’t get along because they’re too similar, but he’s always ignored that. “Oh?” he says blandly.

“The only reason he’s in Ana’s bridal party instead of Sombra’s is because of a lost bet of some kind. Sombra is  _ protective _ of him, you know how that goes.” 

Genji does, although he’s never been on the bad side of it, thankfully. There’s a reason that no one messes with his employees, and it has nothing to do with the bouncers and everything to do with how Sombra will ruin someone’s credit history without a thought.

“Not to mention his exes are here with Ana, and they’re somehow still friends after that whole debacle ended.” 

Genji had heard about that, but can’t resist getting a jab in. “Isn’t one of them fucking your ex husband?” 

Amélie flaps a hand. “I don’t care what Gérard and Gabriel get up to, at least not after Sombra got me the video. My point is: don’t ruin their wedding day, Genji.”

“Hmph.” Genji isn’t going to tell her she’s right, that would be against the boundaries of their acquaintance. He does snag an unopened bottle of champagne, though, and sashays off before he can make a stupid decision about men with too large hands and too warm voices.

-x-x-x-x-x-

An hour later Genji is tucked comfortably into a corner of the velvet couch in one of the dressing rooms, half-drunk bottle of champagne at his side, purse and shoes scattered around him. He’s been halfheartedly reading through this and that on his phone, but he’s warm and has a perfect buzz going, and he doesn’t know if he wants to sleep or dance or fu-

There’s a soft knock at the door. 

At Genji’s noise of assent the door creaks open to reveal Jesse, whose eyebrows raise to see Genji. “You haven’t seen Fareeha, have you? Ana wanted to talk to her.”

“She went off with Gabriel about half an hour ago, something about getting liquor because the bar only had wine.”

Jesse rolls his eyes before tapping into his phone for a moment. “Because that’s somethin’ that’s going to end well.” He shoves his phone into his pocket before carefully, consciously closing the door behind him. “And what’re you doing hidin’ away in here?”

“Too many people, too much noise.” Too much temptation, he doesn’t say. “Angela’s my ride home and she doesn’t get much chance to cut loose, so I was just going to relax for a bit.”

Somehow between one blink and the next Jesse moves next to him, sits down on the couch so his thigh is right next to Genji’s calf. “I figured you’d love the chaos, with what you do for a livin’.”

Genji shrugs his bare shoulder. “I deal with that all day and night. Sometimes I just want some quiet time.”

Jesse’s smile fades just a bit. “I can leave, if you -”

Genji lips tug upwards slowly, slowly as he ignores Amélie’s voice in the back of his head. “Now, I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t mind the company.” His foot shifts over just a bit, pressing one narrow ankle to the side of Jesse’s thigh, flexed and straining against his dress pants.

There’s a warm hand on Genji’s knee, broad and wrapped around the bones, fingers playing with the back stocking seam. “You all really got kitted up for this, didn’t you.”

It’s not really a question, but Genji answers anyway. “Blame Amélie, she wanted us all to match.” He watches Jesse’s face, tilted down to watch his own hand on Genji’s leg as it slides just a bit up his thigh, rucking up the soft fabric of his dress.

Jesse makes a soft, curious noise as his thumb brushes over the lowest curve of the tattoo that starts on Genji’s thigh, just barely visible through the black stockings. “This match the one up there?” he says, nodding at Genji’s shoulder and the dragon that twines down his arm to his elbow. 

“It’s all part of the same piece,” Genji says. “It curves around.” The tattoo was what got him a job in the first place, eighteen and fresh off of escaping his family with only his brother for support. A one night stand had traced the dragon that wrapped around hips and spine with broad fingers and asked him if he’d ever danced before, because he would look just so good on stage. That man had been a predatory idiot, but it led to Genji’s current comfortable life so in the end he can’t really complain.

“Do you have any ink?” Genji asks idly, wondering what military crap Jesse might have accumulated on the body that Genji is fairly sure is magnificent under the tuxedo.

“Ehh,” Jesse says, a noncommittal noise that makes Genji raise an eyebrow. “Just some youthful idiocy.”

Genji sits up a bit, drawing his leg back from Jesse’s hand. His thigh is cold without it. “Let’s see your idiocy, cowboy,” he says, with a smirk of expectation.

Jesse stares at him a moment, before shaking his head with a rueful smile. “Ironic you should say that,” he says before shrugging off his tuxedo jacket. The shirt underneath is snow white, gold cummberbund wrapped around his waist. Genji watches as Jesse deftly rolls one shirtsleeve up to his elbow, revealing a muscled forearm, then rolls up the other. He turns his arm over to show lines of dark ink, a skull and wings and text.

Genji takes his arm - warm, rough with hair - and turns it around a bit. “Deadlock,” he reads, then looks up. “The idiocy, I presume?” 

With an uncomfortable shrug of one shoulder Jesse says, “Sometimes things leave their marks on you.” 

He can relate, Genji thinks. It’s not like he chose to have the dragon tapped into his flesh. They’re no longer in their youth, Jesse and him, and they can choose to make their own idiocy now. He pulls steadily at Jesse’s arm, until Jesse has to brace himself with his other hand slipped between Genji’s waist and the back of the couch. 

He pulls and pulls until Jesse is practically stretched out over him and it’s the work of nothing to reach up and give a slow, teasing kiss to those full lips that have been tempting him all night.

It’s polite for a moment, soft dry lips and the barest brush of a beard against Genji’s skin. Then Genji digs his fingers into Jesse’s wrist and there’s a tongue sliding in and it’s certainly not polite anymore, not with Jesse’s hand clamped to Genji’s hip and Genji squirming into a better position beneath him.

Jesse is sucking at a spot right behind the curve of Genji’s jaw that makes the marrow of his bones turn to liquid when he slows and stops, breath hot on Genji’s throat. The hand that had been on Genji’s hip has slid down to wrap around his thigh. Broad, rough fingers stroke over the delicate edges of the thigh-high stockings, touch the suspenders, pulling one out just enough to let it snap back against pale skin and pull a soft gasp from Genji.

Sitting up, Jesse is all red swollen lips and mussed hair. He’s in between Genji’s legs, one thigh tossed over his lap. Those big hands of his start at Genji’s knees, pushing up the delicate fabric of the dress slowly. Up and up, until he’s touching the sheer flowered French lace of the underwear underneath, until he’s feeling where the garter belt rests just so on Genji’s hips.

Jesse’s head is down, and Genji can’t see his face when he says “I thought the underwear went over the garter belt.”

Genji isn’t going to question where Jesse apparently knows about lingerie, but he licks dry lips before saying, “Amélie didn’t want to ruin the lines of the dress.” That argument, spent stomping around in heels with his dick out, was one for the ages.

Fingers tripping over the fastenings on the front of Genji’s thighs, Jesse looks up at him. His eyes are dark, so dark as he arches a single eyebrow. Genji nods to the unasked question, and Jesse nimbly undoes the fastener. 

One two three four suspenders are undone and hanging loose, but Jesse doesn’t touch Genji’s stockings. Instead he slides his hands up, carefully takes hold of the lace of Genji’s wisp of a bikini without putting a finger through the embroidered holes, and tugs it down. 

Genji can’t help but hiss as the fabric is pulled down, scraping over his hardening cock, even as soft as the lace is. Jesse pulls Genji’s legs up into the air easily, maneuvers the scrap of fabric around his heels with confidence. He settles Genji’s legs back down and starts refastening his suspenders one by one.

“Not that I’m complaining, but...why?”

Jesse runs a thumb down the side of Genji’s left stocking, keeps going as he hits skin and Genji shivers, slides his finger along the warm curve of Genji’s ass under the dress until he hits the garter belt and he wraps a hand around the narrow span of Genji’s waist. “I like the way it looks on you,” he says, then taps fingers over the bare curve of Genji’s skin and the silken line of the suspender cutting across it. “Like the way it feels.”

There’s another hand under Genji’s dress and around his waist, pulling him down, down towards Jesse. “You gonna let me fuck you in it?” he murmurs, hands like hot brands across Genji’s skin.

Four different voices echo in the back of Genji’s head saying this is a bad idea, but he ignores them all. Despite what people think of him, he has little life outside of his work. Sometimes he wants something just for fun. Just for him.

He reaches up and draws Jesse down to him, somehow missing the moment when their lips actually meet because everything in his senses is Jesse’s warm, large body blanketing him. Jesse’s mouth is sweet with champagne and sour with tobacco, and he swallows the small noises Genji makes right down. He doesn’t stop kissing Genji as he fumbles a leg under his thigh, doesn’t pull his mouth away as he pushes himself vertical with a small grunt of effort.

They’re sitting up now, Genji straddled across Jesse’s lap with broken dolls legs splayed wide. He shifts closer, grinds his bare ass against the hardness he can feel straining the unforgiving fabric of Jesse’s tuxedo pants. It’s been a few years since Genji’s given a lap dance, but some things are like falling off a bike - you never really forget how to do it. 

When he slits his eyes open, Jesse’s face almost looks like he’s in pain, hands tense on Genji’s hips and clearly trying not to buck up into him. Genji kisses the corner of his mouth, the underside of his jaw, the hollow of his collarbones revealed by the first button of his shirt being undone as Genji’s hands slide beneath his own dress, beneath his own hard cock to get at the fly of Jesse’s pants. 

Jesse is slumped with his head in the crook of Genji’s neck, and warm air moves over his skin as Jesse sighs when Genji finally works a hand into his pants. Everything is covered by Genji’s dress so he can’t see anything, but Jesse feels thick in his hand, hot and velvet soft with sticky, uncut skin sliding easily up and down. 

Genji is worked up enough he’d happily get off just like this, but Jesse’s hand curves around, slides deeper. “You got anything?” he mutters into Genji’s skin before laving over his throat with soft tongue and sharp teeth.

Having fucked enough former Boy Scouts in his day, Genji is pretty much always prepared. He leans back, trusting in that Jesse will hold on to him. Fumbling at the ground until questing fingers find his beaded purse, he makes a small noise of triumph as he sits back up. Jesse goes back to nibbling his neck as Genji squints in the dim light, digging through the contents.

He tucks a condom into his bodice for the moment, reaching down to push a small packet of lube into the fingers that have been playing with his entrance for long, infuriating minutes. “Don’t get anything on the dress,” he tells Jesse, lifting his chin with a finger to look him in the eyes.

Jesse leans forward, kisses him at the same time he slides a finger deep inside. Whatever sound Genji might make is eaten by Jesse’s clever mouth, tongue flickering between his lips in the same rhythm as his fingers, easy and smooth.

Genji pulls the condom out, gets it onto Jesse by feel alone. Neither man breathes as Jesse slides down slightly, works Genji down onto him with careful movements. Genji wriggles, ignoring Jesse’s choked off noises as he finds a position that doesn’t make his legs scream, and sinks down until he’s perfectly, deliciously full. 

Thighs that haven’t lost their power from being wrapped around a pole flex his body up and down, a rhythm picked up by Jesse’s hands tight on his hips. 

“Thought about this,” Jesse murmurs into a mouthful of sweat wet skin at Genji’s shoulder. “Thought about you.”

“You didn’t know me,” Genji says, thoughtlessly.

“People talk. Worked your way up from dancer to businessman. Beautiful. Untouchable.” Jesse licks a drop of sweat off of Genji’s neck, moves up into a salt sweet kiss. “Everyone said don’t try, but I ran in and there you were, all dolled up and waitin’ there just for me.” 

Genji kisses softly, then harder with a fierce nip to Jesse’s lip. “Not yours, cowboy. I’m not anyone’s.”

“Yeah, but for right now I -” Jesse cuts himself off with a groan. Fingers tight on Genji’s ribs, he pulls him down onto Jesse’s cock once, twice, then keeps him there as he shudders his way through an orgasm. Genji strokes his hand through damp hair, lets Jesse breathe raggedly into his neck as he slowly comes down from it. 

Jesse presses a slow kiss to Genji’s shoulder, then another to where the tendons of his neck meet. Another and another until they’re kissing deeply and Genji is squirming on his lap. 

A hand works its way under the dress, wraps around Genji, all leaking and throbbing blood-hot in Jesse’s grip. “Don’t - get anything on the dress,” Genji manages. “Amélie will kill me.”

“Amélie’s not here right now,” Jesse says, but a moment later is dumping Genji on the couch with a squawk. Before he can say anything Jesse has Genji in his mouth, all hot and wet and perfect suction. Genji looks down with lidded eyes, at Jesse still in his tuxedo with his dick hanging out, all mussed hair and ruddy cheeks, lashes long over his closed eyes as he works Genji in and out of his mouth.

Genji feels heat pool in his stomach, feels the tug of the garter belt as he arches his back. He shoves Jesse’s head down onto him as far as he can go before coming with a hissed curse. He stills, nothing moving but for slow throbs of his cock and a single tear that drips down Jesse’s nose to fall on Genji’s lower stomach and slowly make its way down his side. 

He finally lets Jesse’s head go, who pulls off with unsteady breaths. Genji looks at his face, red and sated and damp with tears, and tugs him up to give him a slow kiss. Jesse kisses him once, twice, then pulls back. He ties the condom off and tosses it at the dressing room’s tiny little trash can, looking around blearily until he finds a box of tissues. Jesse wipes them both down, pulling Genji’s dress into place and tucking himself back into his pants as he goes.

After a few minutes it’s like nothing ever happened, except for messy hair and reddened lips and slowly rising bruises on Genji’s neck. Genji lets Jesse slump against him, both men stretched out as best they can on the couch. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, really. Jesse’s deep breaths and comforting weight are strangely soporific, though.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“What was the one thing I told you not to do?”

Genji pries one eye open, having been sealed mostly shut with eyeliner and sleep. “Mmph. We’re just napping because everyone took their sweet time wrapping up.” Jesse doesn’t comment other than to shove his face deeper into the crook of Genji’s neck, where Genji strokes his hair.

Amélie rolls her eyes. “I’m trying to find Angela, have you seen her?” 

Genji shakes his head on a yawn. “Lemme know if you do though, she’s my ride.”

Sweeping out with a final imperious sniff, Amélie bangs the door shut behind her. Genji’s just about to slip back into sleep when the door opens again.

Opening one eye lazily, Genji quickly opens the other when he sees who it is. “Hey there, beautiful. All partied out?”

Sombra sighs, comes over to shove Jesse’s legs far enough that she can sit on the couch. “I’m goddamn exhausted.” Genji untangles a hand from where it’s gripping the back of Jesse’s shirt and reaches out to her. She threads her fingers through his, their hands resting pretty much on top of Jesse’s ass. “It’s everything I - everything  _ we _ wanted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to sleep for a week.”

A few pieces of hair have come loose from her chignon and her slinky dress is somewhat more rumpled than before, but she’s still gorgeous and Genji tells her so. Sombra gives him a smile - one of her real ones, not her usual sardonic smirk. “Thank you, querido.” She nods down at Jesse. “Looks like you had a pretty good night too.”

Genji shifts slightly, uncomfortably. “Sorry about that. We were talking and it just -”

Sombra waves a hand through the air. “I love you both and you both needed to get laid. Don’t let me harsh your afterglow.” She stands and stretches, back cracking. “You got a ride home? Angie’s gone.”

“Where’d she go?”

Making a face, Sombra says. “Somewhere with Fareeha and Brigitte that I’m not going to think about too hard given who I’m now married to.” 

Genji laughs at that, and Sombra gives him a loving obscene gesture on her way out the door. Looking down, Genji sees Jesse moving around. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says.

“Sorry, darlin.’ You took it out of me,” Jesse says with a yawn, and looks up at Genji with a smile that’s heartbreakingly sweet.

“I’ve been ditched by my ride,” Genji finds himself saying, something in him not wanting the night to be over. “You awake enough to drive?”

Jesse pushes himself up, stretches in a way that makes the shirt pull across his chest appealingly, and gives another jaw-cracking yawn. “Sure. Y’got your stuff?”

Genji finds his shoes and his underwear, which after a glance at Jesse’s back, he tucks into his purse. Jesse gets his tuxedo jacket and they pick Genji’s wrap up from coat check. Outside it’s dark, a brisk breeze making the trees rustle. 

“What time is it?”

Jesse pulls his phone out, squinting at the sudden brightness. “Couple hours ‘til dawn.” He shoots Genji a sidelong glance. “Been a while since the reception. You want to find somethin’ to eat?”

Genji raises an eyebrow. “You’d be willing to be seen with me.”  _ Like this, _ is unspoken - in a dress with heels and makeup and freshly fucked hair.

Giving back what seems to be a genuinely confused look of his own, Jesse says, “...yeah? Why not?” 

Genji can’t quite control the grin that sneaks across his face, the kind of smile he tries not to give often because of how it deepens all his laugh lines. Right now he’s beautiful and with a handsome man, and he’s - happy. Maybe not for ever after, but sometimes happy for a night is a good enough start. Right now he couldn’t care less either way, as he tangles his fingers with Jesse and they walk out into the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
> come talk about mcgenji with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thereweregiants)


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